An All American Teenage Sex Life II Sophomore SeasonChapter 13
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MONDAY, AUGUST 19, 1991
“Here we go around, ‘round, ‘round She givin’ me the run around, ‘round, ‘round, ‘round”
I was up early with Van Halen, but shut my clock radio off immediately. Today would be the first day of football practice. I’d been doing this since 7th grade, but something felt very different for my sophomore year.
I was taller, leaner and looking pretty ripped. I hadn’t done quite as much farm work that summer, but I was in the gym or at the running track four days a week, and I believe all the sex I was having was strengthening my core and increasing my stamina.
I picked Mikey up and we headed to the school on a foggy morning. We started with picking out gear; shoulder pads, a helmet and brand new home and away #42 jerseys, plus some beat up older ones for practices.
We’d be weighed and measured. I was now 5’11 and weighed 185 pounds. My arms were thick and toned. I had broad shoulders stacked with muscle to my neck. I had toned abs and back muscles and my thighs were thickly muscled. The summer had paid off.
We were split into groups with freshmen and sophomores together as the junior varsity, and juniors and seniors as the varsity team. We were led to field for stretching, then the track to run 40-yard dashes. Our time over the summer was not wasted as I clocked in a 4.8 time.
In just shorts and T-shirts, we went through about an hour of conditioning drills and then finished up practice with a mile run. I wasn’t first, but only four people finished ahead of me.
At the end of practice, our JV coach, an elementary school teacher and our driver’s ed instructor, Coach Kavanagh asked me to stop in his office before I left.
“So how was your summer?”
“Very good, coach,” I answered, taking a seat in front of his desk in a dingy little office with white painted cinder block walls.
“So I went over a little film from last year, and you really were a pest to opposing offenses last year.”
“That’s my job,” I shrugged and smiled.
Coach laughed through his bushy mustache. “Anyway, we’re thinking about moving you somewhere you can have a bigger impact.”
“OK, how so?”
“Well, we just watched teams run the ball the other way to avoid you last year. They just took you out of the equation.”
“True,” I reasoned.
“So we would like to try you out at middle linebacker this season. See how it goes?”
“I’m willing to try,” I responded. “But I was wondering about one thing?”
“What’s that?”
“I’d still like to get some time at tight end.”
“Tight end?” coach laughed.
“It would be a waste to have you blocking all the time. You’re made to tackle people, we’ve seen it.”
“But I never have a shot at the ball?” I complained. “I’m as good as any of the guys you have at skill positions. When do I get a shot there?”
“You’re right, and I guess I have to let you in on a dirty little secret,” coach leaned in conspiratorially. “The offense gets to have the two best athletes, the fastest, on the team. Then the defense gets the next two. After that, it’s just position-to-position.”
“I get it,” I reasoned.
“Coach Tenhagen would probably kick my ass if I tried to take you for offense.”
Coach ‘T’ was the defensive coordinator, and I could tell he had a soft spot for me. I felt a little deflated, but a little proud at the same time.
“So I’m stuck on defense?”
“No, not entirely,” coach brightened. “You spent some time on goal line offense at tight end. We can do that again this year. We’ll just have to shuffle some practice time around. You can catch the ball, so we might try that on extra points too.”
On Wednesday, we rolled onto the field in full pads to exquisite morning sunshine. We did stretches and position group drills and hitting with pads and running pass patterns.
The group of us stood around chewing on freshly-moulded mouth guards and fidgeted with ill-fitting pieces of equipment when we were all brought together again.
“These positions are not set in stone,” Coach Kavanagh yelled as he paced along the line of scrimmage. “Every position is up for grabs if you prove you can do a better job than the guys about to stand here.”
“We’ll start over the ball at center. Jason Nelson!”
Jason had been our center last year on the 9th grade team. He strode over and stood over the ball to light applause, crossing his arms over his chest. He was close to 6 foot and thick, somewhat muscular and somewhat flabby.
“Right guard, David Keller,” coach read from a sheet of paper on his clipboard.
David jogged over and stood on Jason’s right.
“Left guard, Michael Scholz!”
I clapped and whistled for Mikey as he strode over and stood to the left of Jason.
“While I’m over here, left tackle, Marcus Robinson!”
“Beast!” the cheer rang out to whistles and applause. Beast took his time walking to his spot next to Mikey to soak in the adulation. I had to laugh.
“Right tackle, Vernon Donaldson!”
A few cheers and a smattering of claps rang out for Vernon. I wasn’t the only person rubbed the wrong way by his antics.
“OK, tight ends will be Brian Thompsen and Trent Turner!”
“Tree!” the cheer rang out for my tallest buddy. He was hovering around 6’3 already and showed no signs of slowing down his ascent.
He and Brian shrugged and each picked a side, with Tree settling in next to Beast. The left side of the offensive line was now comprised of my three closest friends.
“At quarterback, Mitch Carter!”
Coach handed Mitch the ball as he walked behind the line to stand behind Jason.
“At fullback, Chad Woody!”
“WOO-DY! WOO-DY!” was chanted, and he took up position with a smile behind Mitch.
“At tailback, Wyatt Jones!”
Wyatt was roundly cheered and took up position behind Woody. He was our money back and had seen the end zone nearly as many times as I’d had sex.
“At Halfback and flanker, Corey Blank!”
That was a nice surprise for Corey. He was a little guy on our team, but very quick. He’d have a place in the backfield on most plays and split out for passes, but our bread and butter was Mitch and Wyatt on an option, Woody up the middle or Wyatt on a counter or pitch.
“That’s the offense, but anyone can be challenged! Remember that!”
Coach flipped the paper over on his clipboard and surveyed the rest of us standing around.
“We have two tackles starting on defense, Kyle Kronk and Ryan Stubben!”
“STU!” was cheered out for our mountainous tackle. He was around 6’1” and easily weighed 250 pounds. He was massive and could move well for his size. Conditioning was a problem though, and he’d often fade late in games unless he was really dominating the guys across from him. He bullied offensive players much the same way he bullied some in our school. Not a great guy.
Kyle Kronk, or just Kronk, was shorter and heavier than me, but certifiably crazy. He held no regard for his own health and safety and was badger-like in his demeanor on the field. He was there to disrupt plays and generally mess with the mental capacity of his opponent. If someone was bashing his facemask into yours in celebration of a good tackle, that was him. I generally avoided him socially, but he sometimes hung around with Beast. The guy had been in two car wrecks before his 16th birthday.
“At defensive ends, Jeff Tait and Chris Meyer!”
A smattering of claps and murmurs followed, with some guys looking pointedly at me. Chris Meyer had been a linebacker last year but was filling out a bit. Jeff Tait had been my bookend defensive end last year, feasting at times when teams refused to run my way.
Some heads were certainly tilted in confusion over where I would be placed.
“We’re trying something different this year. The quarterback of the defense, your middle linebacker, Jake Parker!”
Claps and nods of recognition followed. “I get it,” Mikey clapped. I walked to the middle of the defense, facing Jason, but back three yards. I cut a pretty imposing figure at linebacker at my size.
“Strong side, or Sam linebacker, Chris Anders!”
I clapped and cheered for my shorter friend. We’d be working closely this season.
“Weak side, or Will linebacker, Eric Turner!”
I clapped for Eric. He was a decent kid but not a great football player. He could make tackles, but was easily blocked. He was much shorter than me.
“Starting corners, you two figure out which side, Jesse and James Wilson!”
I clapped for the short twins. Their real sport was wrestling, and both of them were very good. But they were fast and tenacious tacklers, so corner was a natural spot for both of them. They each took a corner spot as if it had already been decided.
“At free safety, Aaron Blank!”
Aaron was Corey’s cousin. He was a taller guy with some decent speed.
“At strong safety, Shawn Spears!”
Cheers rang out again. Shawn was another wrestler, a redhead with a penchant for hitting. He saved a lot of touchdowns over the years at safety and he was just as comfortable in pass coverage as he was coming up to the line to run blitz. He lined up in his usual spot.
“Same as the offense, guys, this is not set in stone. All you freshmen can challenge for a spot.”
A quick survey of the rest left standing around left little doubt that there wouldn’t be much movement here. They were mostly smaller or underdeveloped freshmen still standing around. They’d also have their chance to play on their freshman team, so no tears would be shed over that.
On the field, on the fly, we set up our base offense and defenses about 20 yards apart. Coach T had given us playbooks the night before, so those of us on defense were expected to know a few concepts and formations, but we were a read-and-react defense for the most part. The start of every play was for me to recognize the strong side of the offense and call that out so our Sam and Will linebackers could line up where they belonged, as well the free and strong safeties.
“Power left!”
That call would put Chris to my left and Eric to my right. Stu and Kronk generally stayed where they started, or would discuss swapping around, but I stayed out of that. I would watch for coach to call out signals, read and understand them, and then tell the rest of the defense what formation we’d be in, and any special call, such as a blitz, crash, or stunt.
“Head, man, tomahawk,” meant we’d be in our base 4-3 with man coverage and the strong safety would come up to the power side on the line of scrimmage to blitz.
“Nose, zone, Pepe,” meant I’d actually take a three-point stance on the line across from the center, our defensive backs were in zone coverage, and our line would stunt to the power side while the two remaining linebackers would fill on the weak side openings.
The concepts were much simpler than the offense, and we could easily read from the coach what he wanted from us.
After a few concepts were explained for the offense, it was time to scrimmage.
We started in our base 4-3 and were told to play ‘vanilla zone.’
“WOOO! I been waitin’,” Kronk yelled out as the offensive line got into position across from us. He licked his chops, literally, across from Vernon. Even I had to stifle a giggle over that.
The offense lined up in a power-I formation, with Corey lined up to the right of Woody.
“Power left!” I yelled out. Chris and Eric swapped spots around me as Mitch took position behind Jason, pointed at me and yelled “forty-two’s the Mike!”
“Down!”
Mitch called out in his biggest voice, then reached under Jason for the snap. The line and backfield put a hand in the ground, or stood in place.
“Set!”
“OH YEAH!” Kronk yelled out, moving side-to-side a little to unnerve Vernon.
“GO!”
The statue-like formation was suddenly interrupted as Vernon shot forward, crashing into Kronk, who grabbed him and shoved him back as Vernon gave up the play, realizing he forgot the snap count.
“God damnit!” Coach K yelled as he threw down his clipboard. “One or two? It’s not that hard to remember!”
Well, to be fair, they sometimes went on ‘set,’ but I wasn’t there to defend Vernon.
Kronk and Stu smashed hands in a high five, and Kronk demanded one from me as well.
“First play, 5 yards back!” Kronk pointed.
“Nice!” I yelled back, getting into the groove of a nasty defense that hit hard and was proud.
“Just run the play,” Coach K bemoaned.
“Same defense,” Coach T smiled.
“Down!” Mitch gritted out. “Forty-two’s the mike!”
“Set!” “GO!”
The offensive line came off the ball in unison, with Jason snapping the ball and blocking to his left to help with Kronk. The middle of the offense opened up for me as I watched Mitch hand the ball to Woody. Instinct carried me forward, but the fullback was always my assignment, regardless of where the play was going.
“KRUNCH!”
Plastic pads met at a low angle at the same time. Woody and I stalled as both of us drove our feet forward, grunting for a long moment before Chris finally met me at the line of scrimmage and helped me put Woody down.
“No gain!” Coach T yelled out. “Nice stop!”
The offense would get steadily more complex as practice went on. I flowed with the play, watching the handoff and my assignment, the fullback, on each play. I found I could range my way from sideline to sideline, and if blockers stayed off me, I was blowing up plays left and right. Forget trying to run up the middle. It was a great practice for the defense, but we had the advantage in the early days of practice. The offense was still learning the plays. We just read what they were doing and responded.
After a shower, Beast summoned us to his car for a surprise.
He’d gotten his hands on the new Metallica album, and had it on cassette in his car. He rolled the windows down and we sat on the curb, looking at the cover art and the playlist. I’d heard “Enter Sandman” and was blown away by it already, but Mikey, Tree and I sat in fascination listening to the rest of the album. By the time it ended, nearly an hour had passed and I was ready to let him play it over again. Every song thrashed. It was metal at its core, yet it was so cleanly put together. It was like nothing we’d heard from Metallica, or anyone else.
It was the soundtrack that would set the tone for us for the football season.
Beast had an extra surprise for us. He’d dubbed a blank cassette for each of us, and dropped one into my grateful hands. I sat staring at it for a moment before thanking him and practically running to my car to hear it again on my way home.
FRIDAY, AUGUST 23, 1991
“How many was that?” I asked with a cocky demeanor.
“I dunno,” Mandy gasped between breaths. “I lost count.”
Mandy and I had done our usual thing, with a bite to eat at The Corner and more than an hour of fucking in the back seat of the Mustang at a secluded moon-lit parking spot.
Both of us were covered in a sheen of sweat on a warm summer night.
“I’m gonna miss this,” Mandy said into my neck, kissing me softly on the cheek.
I gave her a sideways glance, with a question in my eyes.
“But I haven’t said anything?”
“You didn’t have to,” Mandy sighed, wiping a small tear away from her eye.
“I never meant to hurt you,” I said sadly.
“Don’t worry about it,” she sniffled. “You haven’t really hurt me and I know it’s not your fault.”
“What’s not my fault?”
“That you don’t love me,” Mandy couldn’t hold my gaze and turned her eyes downward.
“I’m so sorry...”
“You don’t have to be sorry for anything,” Mandy said kindly, but still not looking at me. “You treated me very well. Better than anyone else has. It’s just that you must have stronger feelings for someone else.”
I didn’t have much to say to answer that but the pit of stomach felt terrible.
“She’s not going to be my girlfriend either,” I shrugged.
“Really?” she sort of half-smiled.
“Really. You didn’t lose to anyone. I just wanted to make sure I got a fresh start this year, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
“You’re a good boy,” Mandy grabbed my cheeks and kissed me softly on the lips. “Er, MAN, I guess.”
“You’re awesome, you know that?” I said honestly. “You’re going to make someone VERY happy.”
“You made me happy all summer,” Mandy smiled. “I just wish...”
“I know,” I said sadly.
“No, you don’t.”
“What’s that?”
Mandy looked away again, rubbing one more tear from her cheek.
“I just wish you would have looked at me the way you used to look at DeeDee.”
That was a bit of a slap, but I don’t think she meant it to be.
“Mandy, I never loved DeeDee either. I knew from the start it could end any time. I was ready for it when she dumped me, I just didn’t care for the timing.”
“The way you two were together was what I wanted,” Mandy said softly. “Looks can be deceiving,” I shrugged. “I do wish I could have trusted her more, and things probably would have been different if I could have, but it ended, and now we’re here.”
“You were such a cute couple. I wanted us to be the cute couple.”
“There’s plenty of time for things to happen,” I rubbed her chin with my thumb. “We could end up together again. I hope we’ll still be close friends going forward?”
“Oh, for sure,” Mandy said quickly. “I want that too.”
“OK,” I said with a smile. “Friends.”
“Friends,” Mandy agreed.
“Maybe friends who can give each other one last big orgasm each?” I said with a crooked smile.
“You’re on!” Mandy cheered.
SATURDAY, AUGUST 24, 1991
The old race shop was getting a little tighter to work around. Grandpa and Louie had brought a few “souvenirs” home from the Knoxville Nationals. Two full size top wings were still decaled from a previous owner and standing up at the back of the shop. Also, a newer frame sat bare on the other side of the complete car. It was a ghastly yellow color that I wanted nothing to do with.
“We’ll paint that. Don’t worry,” grandpa drawled. “Got a heck of a deal on all three.”
“But we don’t need the big wings unless we race a 410, right?”
“Naw, you could get some laps in at the fairgrounds with our motor, but you want the big wing.”
“When are you thinking for that?”
“Maybe in a few weeks,” grandpa smiled sheepishly.
“And the frame is a backup?”
“Nope, probably the primary car next year. It’s a newer Maxim.”
Things were becoming routine for us at the track, but dad was too busy to help and it left me much busier around the car at the track. His usual frenetic pace was hard to keep up with, and more so while I had driving duties.
I didn’t win that night, but I probably had arguably my best race of the season. I battled Troy Ward for the win for several laps before losing to him by inches at the finish line. It was a barn burner. I shook more hands, signed more autographs and took more pictures with people than after either of my two wins.
Ward had already assured himself of the season points championship, and just wanted to win races. He did that night, and said something in victory lane about how it been one of the toughest races he’s ever ran and that I’d be the one to beat next season. High praise from him.
We were late to leave the track again, but the feeling was electric all night.
MONDAY, AUGUST 26, 1991
“We’ll never get out of here if you don’t let me get clean,” she complained without malice.
“I don’t mind,” I said with a little husk in my voice, nibbling at the nape of her long, elegant neck.
“Well, you have to get out of here eventually, or my dad might mind,” she giggled, her soft voice ringing inside the shower.
Autumn gave me a sideways smile as I stood behind her, watching her rub soap languidly over her soft skin, her red hair spilled down her back like hot lava.
Her skin looked great dry, but she looked other-worldly wet. And she knew it.
“Can you do my back?” she asked softly.
“You know I can,” I grinned.
Of course, we had sex one more time in the shower before drying off in Autumn’s bedroom. She wrapped her long, red hair up in her only towel and started getting dressed.
I just admired the show for a moment, watching her slide panties up her long legs. She knew I was watching and blushed a little.
“Been seeing every square inch of you for a while now. Not sure why you still blush,” I teased.
“Still my nature, I guess,” she said, looking me in the eye. “But I have gotten a whole lot better in just a couple of months.”
“That you have,” I agreed.
“I’m going to miss this,” she said suddenly, pulling a second sock up her ankle.
I sat down heavily on the bed, just in my briefs.
“I hate this,” I said softly.
Autumn was reflective for a moment, sensing a change in mood in the room.
“I still think you should do what you planned.”
“Why?”
“You still needed a clean break and I think you need a clean start.”
“We just got squeaky clean in the shower,” I teased.
“Seriously!” Autumn huffed, then sat next to me, taking my hand. “For selfish reasons, I hate this too, but there’s more than just you going on here.”
“Oh?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “I got comfortable being with you alone, and you know, naked. But I’m still not comfortable with the idea of being on your arm at school and stuff. Like, that’s not me.”
“Why not?”
“I’m just not ready for all that attention, all those eyes on me. I get by without anyone noticing me all day. Plus, the whole cheerleader thing. They’d ruin me.”
“OK, for one, you have about a week to get used to having a lot more eyes and attention on you. Your new wardrobe and look are going to turn heads, believe me. Two, the cheerleaders are not going to bother you.”
“How so?”
“To which one?” I teased.
“The second one,” she poked me in the abs. “So you believe the first one already,” I smiled.
“Kind of,” she trailed off with a shy smile.
“You’re a hottie now. Get used to it,” I poked her tummy back. “I won’t allow any problems with the cheerleaders.”
Autumn laughed out loud. “Oh, you’re funny.”
“It’s true,” I deadpanned. “I won’t allow it.”
“I doubt it,” she rolled her eyes.
“I know how to unify them. I know how to divide them. Trust me.”
“Well, even if I did believe it, I’m not ready for it. It’s best this way, and we’ll still be close friends.”
“Just not this close,” I said sadly, kissing her lips softly.
“Nope,” she said softly, ending a sweet kiss.
We looked at each other with sad faces for a moment, both of us maybe not ready for the fun to end.
“Can I come over Wednesday?”
“Absolutely,” she practically cheered.
THURSDAY, AUGUST 29, 1991
Rain can ruin a lot of things, but it can make things go just fine too. Now, just rain might make our football practice a miserable, muddy mess, but when you mix in lightning, coaches are forced to send us inside. As volleyball practice was going on inside the large and smaller gyms, we would be forced to put the big curtain down and split the gym with the volleyball teams.
Tennis shoes, shorts and helmets were the uniform of choice for a walk-through practice. As we funneled out of the locker room and into the smaller gym, we came into contact with the volleyball players for the first time.
Even for practice, they wore those tight little booty shorts, long socks with knee pads and tight long-sleeved tops. Mandy was there, already smiling my way. I could see Deedee as well, practicing a few bumps with a ball and partner. But all eyes were on the new girl. The tall one. The stunning blonde.
“Jen,” I muttered to myself. From 40 yards away it was like she heard it, pausing to see what the commotion was all about. Then she locked eyes with me, squinted, and smiled broadly, a little wave from her fingers sent my way.
“Jesus,” Mikey intoned. “I didn’t know they grew hotties at that altitude.”
“My kind of woman,” Beast said under his breath.
“Who’s she?” Tree asked incredulously.
“Hi Jennifer,” I said louder.
“Hi Jake,” her voice rang out.
Two things happened at once. All female eyes were suddenly on her. All male eyes were suddenly on me.
Mouths were hanging open.
The big curtain was closed down, and we were shooed into lines to stretch and warm up.
“And how do you already know this creature?” Beast asked accusingly, under his breath.
“She uh, she did all the upholstery work on the Mustang this summer.”
“I’ll bet she did,” Beast narrowed his eyes at me. “Or maybe not...”
“Look, I met her twice. She’s great. Everyone is going to like her and she’s a heck of an athlete.”
“So you’re not claiming her?”
“I don’t CLAIM anyone,” I fired back.
“So you wouldn’t mind if someone else asked her out?”
“Back off! She’s mine!” I growled back at him quietly.
Beast chuckled, a wide grin spreading over his face. “You’re like an open book, Parker. We should play poker some time.”
Our walk-through practice ended about the same time volleyball practice ended. I loitered around, waiting near the exit doors as she walked out alone. She had her long blonde hair pulled up into a pony tail poking out the back of a ball cap, but she was still wearing her practice outfit for volleyball, booty shorts and all.
“Hi,” she beamed shyly as she walked up to me.
“Fancy meeting you here,” I teased. “I almost forgot you would be playing volleyball this fall.”
“Almost?” she made a rude noise. “I think you did forget. You didn’t call me all summer.”
“I uh, I wasn’t sure if I needed to have some sort of a T-shirt order or a problem with the car to call you.”
“Nope, you just needed your ‘situation’ to change,” she said meaningfully.
“Really?” I asked, wondering how much of my summer I had wasted waiting around for school to start.
“Really,” she said with confidence. “Has your ‘situation’ changed?”
“It sure has,” I chuckled.
“Just checking,” she said ominously. “But I already knew that.”
“You did?”
“I play volleyball with her,” Jennifer jerked a thumb back toward the locker room.
“So you do,” I grinned sheepishly.
We stood just inches apart, her mesmerizing green-blue eyes only an inch lower than mine. She was my match physically in female form, graceful and muscular in a feminine way.
“Oh, don’t worry, Jake, I only hear good things so far.”
“So far,” I grinned.
We both fell silent as a few people walked by us and out the doors. Each of them making sure to give us a look.
“So, how are you liking it here so far?”
“Not bad,” she admitted. “Everyone has been very nice so far.”
I dug a toe into the flooring, turning it thoughtfully.
“Well, I meant what I said when we first met. I’d be happy to show you around or introduce you to anyone.”
“Anyone?”
“Sure, anyone,” I shrugged.
“Who’s your starting quarterback?”
“Mitch Carter,” I shrugged.
“OK,” she said slyly. “Introduce me to Mitch Carter.”
I let a dark look cross my face before she burst out in genuine laughter.
“Just kidding,” she said in a high voice, then bopped me on the arm.
It was like the last time we’d been together. She insisted on having the upper hand. I had only challenged her the first time because she didn’t see me coming. Each time since, she was ready for me.
“Well, do you just want his number, or should I bring you into the locker room?” I teased.
“I’d settle for yours,” she quipped. “You don’t seem able to dial a phone though. Can you pick it up when it rings?”
“I have my own teen line. And yes, I can pick it up when it rings. Although I might have to start letting the machine get it if I give my number out to just anyone.”
“Am I just anyone?”
Her question floated in the air with each of us grinning at the other as more people walked by, including Mikey, who rolled his eyes at me.
“I’ll be out in a minute, Mikey, wait at the car.”
“It’s raining,” he complained.
“Are you shit or sugar? You’re not going to melt,” I teased, then tossed him my keys. “Oh, where are my manners? This is Jennifer Fox. Jennifer, this is Mikey.”
“Hi,” Mike said with an odd catch in his voice as he limply shook her hand.
“You can go now,” I nodded to my obviously enchanted friend, who shook his head to free himself of her spell and gripped the keys before heading out the double doors with a wave.
“Where were we?” I chuckled.
“Something about me being ‘just anyone?’ Do you think I’m ‘just anyone?’”
“No,” I said firmly. “I do not. I think you are someone I’ve been thinking about all summer.”
“Good,” she said confidently. “I’m glad to know I haven’t been wasting my time doing the same thing.”
“Thinking about yourself all summer?” I teased.
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